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Monday, May 5, 2014

Lessons from ‘The Americans’ on Crime and Forgiveness

If you’re not
watching the FX series The Americans,
you’re missing one of the most gripping, intelligently written dramas on TV. More
than just an action-packed Cold War thriller, it is a series that has its
surprisingly compelling protagonists wrestling with big questions of ideology
and salvation.

Now in its second
season, The Americans stars the
darkly intense Matthew Rhys and the criminally underappreciated Keri Russell as
Philip and Elizabeth Jennings, two Soviet spies living undercover as a normal
American couple in 1981 Washington, D.C. In between co-managing their travel
agency and raising two children (who are oblivious to their parents’ true
identities), Philip and Elizabeth carry out missions for the Communist cause
and keep their activities concealed from their FBI agent neighbor, masterfully
underplayed by Noah Emmerich.

Elizabeth is an
ice-hearted true believer, but after many years undercover, the American way of
life is gradually beginning to seduce Philip. In one riveting confrontation in
the very first episode, she is aghast when he suggests that they consider betraying
the motherland and embracing the good life. “America’s not so bad,” he argues.
“What’s so bad about it? The electricity works all the time, food’s pretty
great… We could have a good life.” Later in the series, on a self-indulgent capitalist
whim, he goes out and buys a new Camaro, then comes home blasting decadent
Western rock music out of the windows.

But the cracks in
his commitment to Mother Russia run even deeper than just the superficial. As
the Cold War heats up, Philip finds himself wrestling emotionally with the more
ruthless aspects of his job – namely, murdering anyone who stands in the way of
his and Elizabeth’s work. In last week’s episode, after having slit a young
man’s throat and caused the death of another innocent whom he had kidnapped for
information, Philip struggles with so much bottled-up rage, doubt and
self-loathing that he explodes at his moderately rebellious teenage daughter
Paige for getting involved with a youth-oriented local church.

Philip and his family are starting to come apart at the
seams, thanks to the terrible lie he and Elizabeth have been living for most of
their adult lives. Driven by a deepening spiritual void that he can’t
acknowledge even to himself, the atheist Philip slips into the small church one
night to confront its young preacher Tim. “I want you to stay away from my
daughter,” he threatens quietly.

“I can’t turn Paige away from the church, Mr. Jennings,” Tim
replies. “This is a sanctuary. I can’t turn anyone away.” Philip steps
menacingly closer. Tim is nervous but stands his ground. “Are you really gonna
beat me up over this?” He suggests that if Philip really wants to help his
daughter, “you should find a way to deal with your anger.”

Philip gets in his face. “I’m not here to be saved. Not by
you or your god.”

“I see that you’re in pain,” Tim whispers. “There is grace and forgiveness for you. For
everyone.”

His conviction not only defuses Philip’s violence, but seems
to surprise and bewilder him as well. The spy exits without a word, steps
outside in the cold night air, and turns with one last look at the church, a
look that betrays his desperate desire for exactly the grace and forgiveness
that he doesn’t believe is possible for his crimes.

It’s a stunning end to the episode, in a compelling series
that traces the growing turmoil of two unlikely TV protagonists: KGB killers,
at least one of whom is increasingly torn between diametrically opposed world
views – communism and capitalism, atheism and faith, sin and forgiveness, ideology
and family.

Their FBI counterpart, Emmerich’s Stan Beeman, is struggling
with issues of his own. An ordinarily emotionally-reserved patriot who has
foolishly fallen for his beautiful KGB informant, Beeman has put himself in a
position to compromise his country’s security and destroy his own marriage.

The
Americans doesn’t
drive office water cooler talk like, say, Game
of Thrones or Mad Men. But its
fascinating Cold War clash between spies agonizing over very human conflicts
deserves to be just as talked-about.

About Me

Mark is the editor of TruthRevolt and a Shillman Journalism Fellow at the David Horowitz Freedom Center. He writes about culture and politics for Acculturated, FrontPage Magazine, The Federalist, The New Criterion, and elsewhere. He has made television appearances on CNN, Glenn Beck and elsewhere, as well as many radio and public appearances.
Mark has worked on numerous films including co-writing the award-winning documentary “Jihad in America: The Grand Deception.”
He is currently adapting a book for the big screen and writing one of his own for Templeton Press.